Do You Hear the People Sing? (Hetalia x Les Mis)
by PomegranateFreak
Summary: Gilbert Beilschmidt was given back his life by a kind priest. In a time of bitterness between the social rankings, how will a poor man like him succeed in life? main pairing is GerIta, with other minor pairings.
1. Chapter 1

Pain; that was all he could feel. There was pain radiating in his arms as he brought down a pickaxe onto a heavy, hard slab of rock. There was pain aching in his feet and legs from the excruciating work and from the times he had missed the rock and hit his foot instead. There was the pain on his back from the harsh rays of the sun burning his pale white skin, and the many whips that were brought down on his back whenever he made a mistake or looked an officer in the eye. What had he done to deserve such a harsh, cold fate? Gilbert had done what he had to do to preserve the life of his precious, sick, starving baby brother. But oh, the law didn't care. The law only knew what they thought to be just, and acted upon it. The law felt no mercy for who they convicted. How foolish Gilbert had been… he had thought, those 19 long years ago, that nothing could be worse than the life he had lived, scraping and begging for food, most of the time being kicked away or chased, because of his strange appearance. He had thought that living in the shadows of the streets, having to do everything he could to keep himself and his brother alive was the worst fate the so called 'god' could bestow upon him. He was wrong. 'God' had sent him to the living heck, forsaking him to let him suffer—after all, why would 'God' care for an outcast such as him? Why would anyone care about himself—or his probably long-dead brother? Moans of pain, the cracks of whips, and cries for mercy from that so called 'God' filled the air around Gilbert, none of them being his own.

"24601!" A man barked, dragging Gilbert to his feet roughly. It was that man… that man that Gilbert despised over every other human being… it was Inspector Roderich Edelstein, a man who thought his self to be the personification of justice itself, and was a so-called 'respectable' man. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Roderich was an insensitive, uncompassionate, shallow man who would convict a mere child if given evidence that they were a so-called criminal. The poor and the people who wandered the streets in search of food and warmth were a dark, irremovable stain on a white silk tablecloth to him. Gilbert could not stand him. He glared at the horrid inspector through hateful crimson eyes, dimmed of their previous mischievous spark through years of torturously hard labor. Roderich simply glared back through his own pair of spiteful violet orbs and handed the albino inmate a yellow slip with neat handwriting on it.

"That is your Yellow-ticket-of-leave. Do you understand what that means, scum?" Roderich sneered, his eyes twinkling with resentment towards the prisoner. But at that moment, Gilbert could hardly care about what Roderich was doing. At that moment, the small slip of yellow paper was the most beautiful thing in the world to Gilbert. It was his freedom.

"I-it means I'm free." Gilbert murmured in a small, weak voice, happiness overwhelming him. Finally, he was going to be able to get out of this living hell. A hard smack across his cheek shook the man back into reality, leaving a bright red handprint on his right cheek. Roderich was shaking his head impatiently.

"No, 24601! It means that your parole has begun. You're still nothing but a worthless criminal. It means that since you survived prison, you're being sent out to go die in the world you good-for-nothings have been dreaming about being in ever since you were put in here." Roderich snapped, making Gilbert slightly angry. He had not done _anything_ that should be considered a crime. He was not a criminal. What right did that inspector have to judge him? Roderich had sentenced many innocent men and women to their doom without a second thought. Women who stole to feed their babies were convicted, without a second thought of how those children would survive. Men who fought back to protect their wives and children were convicted, without having another thought on the children and mother were to go on without the protection of a man, or the money from his work. Roderich had torn families apart and orphaned children, and _Gilbert_ was the criminal and good-for-nothing?

"My name is not '24601.' My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt." Gilbert snapped, earning a scoff from Roderich, who replied

"And my name is Roderich Edelstein. I suggest you do not forget my name, you disgusting pig. Now get out." The inspector pointed to a door, his facial features twisted into an angry, hateful scowl. Gilbert grinned back, all anger disappearing at the thought of leaving. He could start a new life now. Gilbert ran out the door and straight out of the filthy prison and into the warm air and brightness of summer. He now was free, and he was going to be able to get a job and work for himself now—or at least that was what he had thought. How wrong he was.

It had been a month since Gilbert had been freed from the prison, and so far, life was horrible. He lived and wandered on the streets, begging for work and always being denied. All because of that horrid parole slip. It was because of that parole slip that Gilbert wasn't able to find a decent job. Everyone thought him to be a dangerous criminal; they all judged him for the piece of paper that he carried in his pocket. He was hungry and cold, having to dig around in garbage cans for food and sleep in soiled hay for warmth. The way he had lived before being put into prison was a higher quality of living. At least then, kind strangers had given him a scrap of bread or a few pennies once in a while. But now, people could not care less about him. Gilbert stumbled past a church, where a bishop and a few nuns resided. The bishop, whom had just happened to look out his window and Gilbert was walking by, couldn't bear to see any man suffer out on the streets. It was very often that the bishop invited the poor and the down trod into his church, letting them seek sanctuary for the night. The bishop dashed out the church door and waved his hand, beckoning Gilbert.

"Come, come! You look tired and hungry. We do not have much, but we share what we do have." The bishop lead Gilbert into the cozy, warm church. He sat the weary man down at his table and poured him wine and fed him bread and cheese. Gilbert was then bathed and shown to a very comfortable and plush bed. It was weird, why the bishop was being so gracious towards him. Surely the religious man viewed him just as everyone else did, as a criminal? Once the nuns and the kind bishop had retired to their beds, Gilbert got up and quietly went down to leave. He eyed a few silver plates and spoons, before stuffing those into his knapsack. The silver would help pay for food and rent, and surely he needed it more than that bishop and his nuns did. After stuffing his sack full of silver, Gilbert took off into the night, expecting never to return to that church. He was wrong.

That morning, Gilbert was being hauled back to the church by the police. They had caught him 'snooping' about the streets, looked through his knapsack, and discovered his stolen silver. He had lied and claimed that the silver was a gift from the bishop. So, the police had decided to take him to the church to verify his claims. Gilbert simply knew that the bishop was going to reveal him and condemn him to 20 more years in that hell. The thought made Gilbert want to cry, but he wasn't going to. He was too strong- no, he was too _awesome_ to cry. The police then threw Gilbert on the ground at the bishop's feet and emptied his knapsack; letting all of the silver Gilbert had stolen pour out of the bag.

"This man," The inspector pointed at _Gilbert. "_This man has claimed that you have given this all to him as a gift. Is that true?" The inspector asked, causing the Bishop to smile gently down at Gilbert.

"Why, of course. But my dear friend, you left so soon—you forgot something else I gave you." The bishop then bestowed a pair of fine silver candlesticks to the bewildered and shocked Gilbert. "Surely you wouldn't want to leave the best behind?" The bishop chuckled and turned to face the inspectors, waving them off. "As you can see, this man has spoken truth. I commend you from your duty, may God's blessing rest with you." He smiled as the inspectors left, and then turned back to the trembling Gilbert.

"Now remember this, my brother…" the bishop sighed and helped Gilbert to his feet. "See, in this some higher plan… you must use this precious silver to become an honest man." He patted Gilbert on the shoulder. "I have bought your soul for good." He breathed slightly and bowed a little, before turning away from the former fugitive and went back into his church, leaving Gilbert with his own guilt.

Gilbert stumbled along the road, thinking back to the recent events. What had he done? What was he thinking? That man had invited him into his home and shown him kindness and a bed to rest him, and Gilbert had unawesomely repaid the kind deed by stealing the silver which belonged to the church and making off with it in the night. Then when the Bishop had the choice to let the inspectors take him back to the horrible prison, but instead, he saved Gilbert and let him go free. Had Gilbert come to hate this world so much, to the point where he would ruthlessly steal from churches? Was he really _that_ unawesome? No. Gilbert was going to start on a fresh slate. He took out the hated yellow slip from his pocket and quickly tore it to bits; it was the last proof of his former self. Gilbert was nothing now; that part of his story was over. It was time to start a new volume of his life's story.

_First chapter fin. _


	2. Chapter 2

EIGHTEEN YEARS LATER

Through many struggled and plenty of hard work, Gilbert had managed to become a very successful man. He had broken his parole and changed his name to Franz Traugott and had become the head of a thriving company and the Mayor of a town. Under his leadership, the townspeople were doing well, considering how troubled the times were and how low the unemployment rate was. Despite how successful he had become, Gilbert continued to live in fear of his past and the thought that he could be discovered. He couldn't bear it if everything came crashing down, when he had worked so hard for so many years and had come this far.

At one of his factories, there was a beautiful young woman. Her name was Elizabeta. She was the daughter of nobility and had known luxury for most of her life. However, her good life had come crashing down when she had discovered that she was pregnant with the child of the man she loved, and whom she believed had loved her back. The boy, Vladimir and his parents had laughed and spat in her face when she came to them, practically begging for Vladimir to help her care for their child. Her parents disowned her as soon as they found out that the father wasn't going to help. She had been ruined and brought shame upon their family. In their eyes, Elizabeta had become a stain on the pure white tablecloth of their family, and that stain had to be removed without a trace. Grief-stricken and desperate, Elizabeta gave her precious child to an innkeeper and his wife to care for, and then went to the next town to go work. If anyone had known that she had a child out of wedlock, she'd be thrown into the streets before she could say 'please'. The innkeeper and his wife, Mr. and Mrs. Braginsti, were not good people, and made Elizabeta send them ridiculous amounts of money in return for them taking care of her child, Feliciano. The poor woman sent her dear baby all the money she could, only keeping the bare minimum she needed.

Elizabeta frowned as the foreman hovered near her. She hated how close he would come, she hated how his hot breath would hit the back of her neck, and above all, Elizabeta loathed how his fingers would ghost down her figure, never failing to linger near her butt. Of course, it wasn't just her whom the foreman would give this sort of attention to; he gave it to all the women in the factory. The vulgar man simply liked giving it to her more than to the others. Whether it was because she never gave in or because she was unmarried, Elizabeta didn't know. She didn't care to figure it out, either.

"Oh, look at the foreman today." Elizabeta heard a woman, who was married and blessed with a few children muse from a station not very far from her own.

"With his restless hands and short breath?" another woman responded, a snide tone in her voice.

"It's because dear little Lizzie won't let him have his way." The first woman remarked, a disapproving tone entering her voice.

"Take a look at his pants; you'll see how he stands." Both women snickered and glanced over at Elizabeta, acting like a couple of gossiping schoolgirls. Elizabeta rolled her eyes in exasperation; conversations such as that one happened every day. It wasn't unknown to her that all the other women in the factory hated her, simply because she got more attention from the cursed foreman than they did. Elizabeta didn't see why they were so jealous she was bothered by that pest more than they, anyways. All of them were happily married; they hardly had room to complain about their lives. The bell rang, signaling their break and hurtling Elizabeta back into reality. She got up and motioned to go retrieve her lunch, when a woman near her suddenly reached into her skirt pocket and snatched the letter within. Elizabeta paled; that letter was one from the innkeeper concerning the payment she needed to send him. If they were to find out, those women would have her sacked in a heartbeat.

"Ooh, what have we hear, dear little Lizzie?" the woman laughed, smirking over at Elizabeta, before reading the letter out loud to the rest of the woman.

"'Dear Elizabeta, you must send us more money. Your child is gravely ill, you have no time to lose!'" A look of genuine shock fell onto all of the women's faces, quickly being replaced with looks of smug joy. Elizabeta took a deep breath and looked the woman with her letter in the eyes.

"Give me that letter back, none of it is your business. You have a husband at home; your children are perfectly healthy. You have nothing to fear or hide, why do you care?" she hissed, trying to snatch the letter out of the woman's hands, and ended up pouncing on her when the woman would not give it back. The women screamed and squabbled as the two rolled around on the dirt-covered ground, scratching and pulling at one another's hair. The fight created such a ruckus that the sound of yelling and screaming reached the office of Gilbert, or 'Franz', who was also known as 'Monsieur L'Mayor.' He rushed down to the working area to find the two women clawing and beating at each other.

"Mien Gott, what is this all about? Tear those two apart, now!" He ordered, and all the women straightened up immediately, the looks on their faces like unto the face of a naughty child who had been caught in the middle of their crime. "This is factory, ladies. Not a circus side-show. I run a business; I am the mayor, I have little time for things such as this." He scolded the women, before calling over the foreman.

"Now, please be as patient as you can." He ordered the foreman, before exiting the scene to go back and attend to his duties. The foreman looked over all of the women, a gruff look on his slightly deformed and hideous facial features.

"You, Tell me what happened!" He snapped an order, pointing at one woman. The woman stepped forward and almost automatically pointed at Elizabeta.

"She's the one who started it! It's really a funny story. You see, Lizzie here is hiding some little brat in another town. There's a man she has to pay, and you can guess how she earns the little extra money she needs. It doesn't take a well-educated person to know she sleeps around." The woman reported with a smug smirk on her face. Elizabeta fought her way to the front, feeling offended that anyone would even suggest that she would sell herself. She had more dignity than any of the other women here, and they all knew it.

"It's true. There is a child and the child is my son. His father abandoned us without a second thought. Now the boy stays with an innkeeper man and his wife and I pay for his upbringing. Where is the harm in that?!" She asked, looking at the foreman with pleading eyes. She couldn't lose this job. She just couldn't. How would she pay for Feliciano? The foreman showed no mercy to poor Elizabeta, though. Rage flickered in his eyes as he roughly grabbed Elizabeta by the arm and brought her so that their noses were nearly touching.

"I might have known your little secret, you whore. Oh yes, you act so virtuous and good, keeping yourself so clean. I should've guessed you'd be the cause of any trouble here. After all, you might play a virgin in the daylight, but you need no urging at night, huh?" he muttered angrily, shoving Elizabeta away from him. The woman continued to persuade him to sack her, telling the foreman that she was a slut and that she'd ruin them all, while Elizabeta could only stare at him with pleading eyes. The foreman had made his decision though, and there was nothing that Elizabeta could do to change it.

"Get out." He hissed at her, pointing to the door. Elizabeta's green eyes widened in panic; this could not be happening. In a flash of desperation, Elizabeta ran past the foreman to try to get upstairs to Gilbert's office. The foreman quickly chased after her and pulled Elizabeta away from the stairs, dragging the poor girl to the door.

"PLEASE, MONSIEUR L'MAYOR! I HAVE A CHILD! I NEED- " Elizabeta was cut off and she was flung out the door and the door was shut in her face. What was she going to do now?


End file.
